


morning breath

by AlphaStarr



Series: if there's a tomorrow [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Post-RD, Spooning, Too Early For This Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaStarr/pseuds/AlphaStarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>that i should say goodnight, goodnight, until it be morrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	morning breath

**Author's Note:**

> Red skies in morning care for no warning. Perhaps this is a bit of context for the other one.

Soren woke to the warmth of breath tickling the back of his neck, the weight of a heavy arm slung over his waist. His long hair, he knew, was probably hopelessly mussed, his body sore in ways he might never become accustomed to the satisfaction of. Thanks to, perhaps, a stroke of fortune, both Soren's lithe figure and his bedmate's more muscular one bore but little evidence of the evening previous' activities-- a faint stickiness from sweat that had been cooled by the night air, a few markings that seemed to have faded significantly. It was far from the hot mess they'd been but a few hours ago.

But in spite of yesterday's heated exchanges and copulations, it was in this moment Soren felt closest to Ike, nestled firmly against his body and cocooned in his arms, tangled in his legs, wearing him like a second skin. It was nearing dawn, now, the faint pinkish-redness of the sun just edging up into the single window in the room. Soren knew as well as any other tactician the importance of the hour, but still he couldn't will himself to leave.

Foolish, he chided himself internally. There were things that had to be done before they left town; that was the only reason they stopped here in the first place. Supplies had to be purchased and things had to be picked up before they left, and none but Soren himself could complete these tasks. He had to make sure to retrieve Ike's shoes from the cobbler this morning; they'd needed to be resoled ever since Ike had worn them out marching beside a nervous merchant on her first transportation job. Furthermore, the blacksmith should have reasonably repaired Ike's sword by now. It was no Ragnell, but in Ike's hands any sword was a weapon of mass destruction and it got the job done. Quite irritatingly, it got enough use that they were forever having to reforge or replace parts of it. Soren was fairly positive that it was a completely different sword than the one they'd set out with.

That wasn't even counting the other supplies they'd need to replace, rations and thread and lantern oil and soap, things like that. Plus, Soren desperately needed a new tome-- any tome, actually. He didn't care if it was a half-used Wind spellbook, or if he'd have to purchase paper and ink and painstakingly scribe out every page himself. Never again would he let himself stand by, weaponless and useless, as Ike fought off an assailant.

In that scenario, it would probably be half a miracle if they could depart as planned. If they wanted even the slightest hope of leaving by tomorrow morning, Soren would have to get started immediately. His sigh was weary as he began to extricate himself from Ike's grasp.

The blue haired hero groaned sleepily, his arm tightening in rebellion and his face resolutely burying itself in Soren's hair. Soren tried to be annoyed at him, but found himself only capable of being fond. He turned back and, using all of his strength, attempted to bodily hoist the weighty limb off his body.

"Mmmph," Ike grunted, curling around his tactician ever-tighter. Even when he was mostly asleep, he was still stubborn. "Sooooooren?"

"I have to get up, Ike," the mage explained patiently. "There are things I have to do today, and I'll hardly accomplish anything in bed."

"That's a lie," Ike mumbled, pausing to yawn. "You've very accomplished in bed."

"Things I have to do _outside_ of bed, Ike," Soren chastised, though he had to admit that he'd set himself up for that one.

"Hmmm," Ike hummed in his drowsiness, and Soren could feel his bedmate's shoulders arch in a stretch. "Five more minutes, then we can both get up. It's not even dawn yet, stay."

"You can sleep, but I'm getting up to get your shoes back. I doubt you'll be able to so much as leave the inn without those," Soren tried to reason, but the comfort of a real, not-a-bedroll bed and Ike's warmth were wearing on his otherwise very formidable willpower.

"You always work so hard," Ike nosed softly at the nape of Soren's neck, and the mage felt himself begin to melt. Internally, he cursed Ike's familiarity with his body, most particularly his knowledge of that particular spot. "Getting up early, taking inventory, studying strategies... you know, I used to think you were just really, really invested in being a mercenary."

Soren shuddered as he felt the warm breath tickle his nerves, "Do you... do you still think that's true?"

"Nope," Ike punctuated it with a kiss on Soren's uppermost vertebra. "That wasn't ever why you worked so hard. I think I know now... it was to help me, right?"

"Always," Soren's hand found Ike's, though he carefully averted his eyes. Perhaps if he pretended his faint blush wasn't there, it would disappear.

He hadn't... he hadn't ever realized that there would come a day when Ike would figure that out, that everything he did was to help him to the best of his ability. Somehow, being recognized for the true purpose of his work was worse than keeping his true motives secret.

"Soren... don't work yourself to death because of me," Ike breathed, shifting his forehead to rest against Soren's neck. "I can pack things and replace swords easy enough, but I _can't_ lose you."

"I'm hardly going to die from a bit of work," Soren replied, but the feeling of a tear-moistened cheek against his crook of his shoulder made him nestle a bit more closely to Ike and squeeze his hand.

"Running around from sunup to sunset's more than just 'a bit' of work," Ike mumbled, comforting himself by wrapping his body more closely to Soren's. "You're always awake when I fall asleep, and always awake long before I even know it's morning, and you eat less than half the food I do, even if all I've eaten is some bread and an apple... I worry about you sometimes."

"Ike..." Soren's eyes clenched shut and tears began to leak from the corners.

How could he tell him his true reason for working the way he did? He knew his Laguz blood would force him to outlive Ike by centuries... perhaps even millennia. If he could through his work give Ike the years he didn't need, if they could live like this forever... well, there was no point in dealing with ifs. There was only trying to make the most of every moment spent with the one man he trusted completely.

"Stay," Ike's voice wavered and cracked, the desperation almost a prayer-- Ashera was dead in Ike's heart, and Soren was his god now. "Sleep in with me."

And Soren acquiesced.


End file.
